Chapter4
1110 Words
Roman gave no sign of hearing his name spoken.
Daniel looked between them, suspicion turning his features hard. “What exactly is going on here?”
Selene found her voice first. “What’s going on,” she said, “is me telling you to leave me alone.”
“Selene—”
“I mean it.” Her chin lifted. “Go downstairs. Smile for the guests. Explain to Vanessa why your fiancée’s ring is sitting on a coffee table upstairs. I don’t care. But if you follow me again tonight, I’ll tell every person in that ballroom exactly what kind of man you are.”
For a moment, Daniel just stared at her.
The expression on his face changed so fast it almost made her take a step back. The polished charm vanished, and in its place was something colder, uglier. Anger. Real anger. The kind he usually hid behind expensive suits and public smiles.
“You’re making a mistake,” he said.
Selene smiled, though it felt brittle around the edges. “No. Accepting your proposal was the mistake.”
Daniel’s eyes flashed with something dark enough to send a chill through her, but Roman was still beside her—silent, immovable, and somehow more threatening for the fact that he wasn’t raising his voice.
Daniel noticed it too.
He laughed once, without humor, and took a step backward. “Fine. If that’s how you want to play this.”
“It is.”
“Then when you’re done embarrassing yourself, call me.”
Selene’s fingers curled into her palm. “Get out.”
For one second she thought he might refuse, if only to prove he still could. But Daniel glanced once more at Roman and thought better of it. His jaw clenched.
Then he turned and walked out, slamming the door behind him.
The silence afterward was enormous.
Selene didn’t realize how hard she was breathing until the room stopped spinning long enough for her to hear it. Her knees felt weak all of a sudden, the adrenaline that had kept her upright draining too quickly from her body.
She took a step toward the nearest chair and nearly stumbled.
Roman caught her by the forearm before she hit the edge of the table.
The touch was firm and steady.
Selene froze.
His hand was warm against her skin, his grip careful but unyielding. Up close, he smelled faintly of cedar and something darker—clean, expensive, masculine in a way that made her pulse feel strangely uneven.
“I’m fine,” she said automatically, though her voice sounded thinner than she wanted it to.
Roman looked down at her, pale eyes cool and unreadable.
“No, you’re not.”
She pulled her arm back a little too quickly. “You seem very determined to point that out.”
“And you seem very determined to lie about it.”
Selene stared at him.
Now that Daniel was gone, the room felt different. Quieter. More dangerous somehow. Roman was no longer just the stranger who had interrupted a fight. He was the man who had stepped into it without hesitation, who had looked at Daniel like he was a problem already solved.
It should have unsettled her more than it did.
Instead, Selene became sharply aware of everything about him—the dark suit fitted to broad shoulders, the expensive watch at his wrist, the cool precision in his face, the way his eyes seemed to miss absolutely nothing.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she said at last.
Roman’s mouth barely moved. “Yes, I did.”
“Why?”
His gaze lingered on her for one long second. “Because he was one sentence away from grabbing your arm and dragging you downstairs.”
Selene opened her mouth to deny it, then shut it again.
Because he was right.
Roman released her and stepped back, giving her space without making it feel like distance. “Sit down before you fall down.”
“I’m not going to faint.”
“No?” His eyes moved over her face, taking in the strain she could no longer hide. “You look unconvinced.”
“I don’t even know you.”
“Roman Vale,” he said, as if that explained everything.
Selene let out a breath that was almost a laugh. “That’s not reassuring.”
For the first time, the corner of his mouth tilted.
Not a full smile. Just enough to make her realize how dangerous a real one would be.
“Sit, Selene.”
The fact that he already knew her name should have bothered her. Instead, the sound of it in his voice did something strange to the surrounding air.
Selene moved toward the velvet sofa by the window and lowered herself onto it before her legs betrayed her completely. Roman remained standing for a moment, watching her like he was assessing damage.
The city glittered behind the glass in silver and gold, beautiful and indifferent.
Selene looked down at her hands and saw that they were still trembling.
Her bare finger caught the light.
A sharp ache hit her all over again.
This had been her engagement night.
She was supposed to be downstairs smiling beneath chandeliers, drinking champagne, pretending she had a future neatly arranged in front of her. Instead, she was in a private lounge with one of the most powerful men in the city, mascara threatening to run, while the remains of her life sat upstairs on a coffee table next to a cheating fiancé.
It was so absurd she almost laughed.
Instead, she asked, “Is it always this easy for you to step into other people’s disasters?”
Roman looked at her for a long moment before answering.
“No,” he said quietly. “Just yours.”
And somehow that answer felt more dangerous than anything else he had said all night.
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